Children of the Corn

Yesterday I thought we'd do something fun and different for our Saturday family outing. Something that required exercise and some time in the beautiful Autumn outdoors. So I scoured the internet until I came across the perfect thing- a corn maze. What could be cooler than the whole family wandering through a 2 1/2 mile maze of corn, complete with checkpoints, our own flag and a nifty little ticket that lets you stamp your progress as you find the stamp boxes hidden in the maze? I envisioned the girls laughing and calling out excitedly as each stamp box was found, my toddler finally free to run pell mell through the paths and my husband and I holding hands and enjoying the outdoors together.....that is not what I got.

Instead, I got Children of the Corn revisited. And let me tell you, if I had suddenly found myself being tied to a cornstalk cross and offered up to "he who walks the rows" I might have had a better time. Our beautiful autumn day turned out to be a late month scorcher. 80 degrees and sheltered by the high stalks of corn, we had no chance of a breeze. My family and I sweated through 2 1/2 miles of corn maze, dragging our flag (wave in case of emergency) behind us and taking turns dragging our toddler through the paths. And though Elisabeth actually got into the spirit of it and delightedly searched every corner for a stamp box, Abby whined because she wanted chicken nuggets and begged to wave our flag so an employee would come lead us out. My husband was just as disgruntled -if not as vocal- as we toted a howling toddler from checkpoint to checkpoint as he struggled to get down. Not to run mind you, but to disappear into the corn or to squat in the path and eat sand by the handfuls....maybe it tasted like corn? An hour later we emerged soaked and wilted, Alex red-faced and screaming, Abby still whining and Elisabeth crying because we were all too tired and hungry to pay another $20 to jump in a moonwalk for 20 minutes. Between all the whining, crying and temper tantrums I began to wonder just why we even do these outings. Then I looked at my daughters, so big already and closer to teenage than I'd like, and at my beautiful curly-haired boy who would not always cling to me so passionately, and finally at my husband who- despite me freezing him in time at 25- is beginning to show gray. And I remembered that anything worthwhile is often difficult. So I will keep dragging us all out every weekend until the kids move out or I am physically unable. We will have family time if it kills us....just maybe no more corn mazes.

Remind Me Again Why You Married Me?

I am a drama queen. Oh yes, I can admit it and laugh about it. Age has matured me, though I will probably never stop speaking in hyperbole. So in light of a recently quiet household (but for how long?) I am delving for material in my past. Here's motherhood in your 20's at it's best....hope you enjoy it.

1. The time I called my husband at work, baby screaming in the background, and informed him that I had had enough and to come home immediately. He told me he'd be there just as soon as he finished up what he was working on. "Fine," I said "Your daughter will be on a blanket on the living room floor, I am leaving now." ...of course I didn't leave the baby, but you know, I had no idea car tires could smoke like that in subzero weather.

2. Angry and pregnant, I had a hormonal temper tantrum and actually kicked my foot through the lower kitchen cabinet in our rented apartment. To top it off, I swore to my husband it was a complete accident and that I'd somehow tripped. But like I said, I was pregnant so he knew better.

3. When I lost my temper over our toddler's screaming temper tantrum and told her "Here's your f*&^ng drink!" This sounds awful, but in fact, she laughed at me and then ran around saying the F word for the next 2 weeks....we swore to everyone else she was trying to say "fork."

4. And my all time favorite: My hubby and I had a home "date night" planned. I had the kids in bed early, the wine chilling and the back patio set with candles and a romantic dinner for two. When he kept working in the basement, I just stewed upstairs waiting for him to come up. Finally I grabbed my cell phone and took off in the car, fully expecting an apologetic call. It didn't come. I went to see a movie. He didn't call. I drove around at 1:00am and left some tearful message on my best friend's answering machine about how my marriage was over. And he still didn't call.

What I had failed to realize was that the cell phone was new and he didn't know the number. What I also failed to realize was that my best friend also didn't have the number. So while my husband frantically called around looking for me, my best friend was calling my out-of-state mother saying the connection was bad, but she heard me crying and something about it all being over. My mother called my house in hysterics thinking I was suicidal, but only got a busy signal and the whole thing just snowballed from there. It took me a week to calm everyone down and let's just say, I now tell my husband if I'm pissed and need to drive.

The "P" Word

What is it about potty humor? My kids can't seem to get enough of it. Every time a bodily function occurs, they collapse into giggles and spend the next 15 minutes rehashing it from every angle, pointing fingers, telling the whole family about it and sniffing the air so they can shriek about how disgusting it smelled. I'm surprised they don't pick up the phone and call Grandma..."Hey Grandma, guess what? Alex pooted!!!!!!" Even my toddler joins in, and though it looks like he's just laughing and clapping because his sisters are going ape, I know deep down it's inherent in the Y chromosome. Boys never outgrow this. I know this for a fact because my husband still thinks it's funny. Example..the night I went upstairs to say goodnight and found both girls and my husband laughing over the new nicknames he'd given them...Abbitail and Elisabutt. Yeah, well it wasn't quite so funny when my daughter went to her private Christian school the next day and told her teacher that's what she wanted to be called from now on. I don't think potty humor's a sin, but I got a conference request so fast it made my head spin...just to check how she was adjusting to kindergarten, mind you. So now that we've added our son to the family, my husband has a cohort and I have lost all hope of ridding our home of potty humor forever. I know the girls will outgrow it, or at least quell the urge to talk about it in front of boys, but for my boys I suspect it's some sort of male bonding thing. Oh well, at least it makes my job a little easier, I can squash arguments and restore harmony with a single word...poot.

Today is WHAT day?!

So here we are late for school again. This entire week my household has been like some supernatural time sink. With all the minutes that seem to vanish into thin air, we could be an episode of the X-files. I mean, I get up and have coffee at 7:05am....then I look up and it's 8:40am, the kids haven't brushed their teeth, I'm not even dressed and there's still homework to be signed and snacks to pack! My poor children have barely made to school on time all week (our school starts at 9:15am...and yes, I LOVE it). So, late again this morning: I am barking orders like a drill sergeant, Alex has destroyed his diaper in a very odoriferous way, my husband can't find clean socks, my youngest daughter is crying cause she can't find her shoes and my oldest is actually having a tantrum over the fact that her favorite jeans no longer fit (welcome to the rest of your life, honey). Yet despite tears, tantrums and tons of poop, it looks like we might just squeak in under the wire, then....oh hell,I forgot it's picture day.

I look at my children. Elisabeth's super thick hair is wild and woolly, barely contained by her staunch efforts and absolute conviction that 2 teeny fashion barrettes are going to keep it contained- sort of like a wad of chewing gum holding back the hoover dam. Abby didn't shower last night thanks to a family wii tournament that went way past bedtime. Her normally shiny hair is oily and limp, bangs hanging in her face. She picked a black hooded t-shirt to wear today and is currently hiding her entire head under the hood. She looks like a gang member that's been hiding out all night. I look at the clock....if we leave now we'll just make it.... and then tell everyone to head upstairs where I perform some lightning fast makeovers with a curling iron, hair gel, scrunchies and scented body splash. Newly primped, we rush to school- only 10 minutes late, thank you very much. It's then I realize I forgot the prepay forms. So now I have to go into the office unshowered with mismatched sweats, slippers, no makeup and that lovely sex-the-night-before hairdo. I fill out forms with my head down while my son tries his best to follow his sisters to class and every other mom in the school comes in looking thin and fresh with full makeup and matching clothes. Ten mortifying minutes later the task is done and Alex and I head out for home. Tomorrow I'm setting a damned timer.

Pet Peeve #102

Ok, I am straying from my usual topics here and venturing forth into yet another rant on a particular pet peeve of mine.....celebrities in politics. Oh yes, I know you've seen them. They stand there in all their glory and talk about the government and how awful everyone is being to each other and how horrible America is. Then they go to their private dressing suites (that are nicer than most 5 star hotel rooms) full of fresh flowers and catered food to wait while their personal assistants arrange for their private jet to refuel. They have a limo ride home to a gourmet dinner cooked by their personal chef and then a quick 5 hour work-out in the home gym before bed. Don't get me wrong, they are most certainly entitled to the rights and liberties afforded all citizens of this country, including the perks associated with being rich and famous. Go for it! More power to you! BUT, please don't stand on your diamond-studded soapbox and think that because you are high profile you have special knowledge that the rest of us poor normals don't have. We may love your movies and follow the gossip about you, but that doesn't mean anyone thinks your opinion means any more than the homeless guy begging for nickels on the street corner. In fact, in my humble opinion, it means just a little less. So some advice to celebrities in general: have all the opinions you want, it's a free country and people fight hard every day to keep it that way for you, but when you're being interviewed-especially on foreign soil- do us all a favor, remember where the paychecks ultimately come from and stick to what you do best...reading from a script.

My Epiphany

I had an epiphany this morning. You see, we had a lousy Labor Day weekend. Our plans to go out of town fell through, our house is in the middle of being completely reorganized (my fault) so the whole upstairs is just plain depressing, I'm behind on everything and my son alternately wrecked what little was left of order in the house and pitched nonstop tantrums at the changes in his schedule. I have been overwhelmed, hormonal (thank you pms) and exhausted for the past two weeks. My husband is afraid to talk to me and the girls are quieter than usual. I keep telling myself that when the chaos passes I will be a better mom, I'll be a better wife, I won't be so cranky...enter my epiphany. This is my life. The chaos comes from a house full of children and love and laughter and mess. The dishes and laundry and bills are all just the flip side of the coin. I have been working so hard to make our home perfect, to make it something the kids will remember fondly and my husband will be proud of. I have been freaking out over cereal on the floor, juice spilled on the couch and the neverending pile of laundry. But childhood memories don't work that way. Our children won't remember that the house was always spotless, or that they always had clean clothes. They will remember that I bought them a new Easter dress every year, the ice cream dinners we had every summer, the way I let them help me cook dinner and the way I smelled. They will remember if our home was a happy place, the family walks we took to the bookstore, the times I took them swimming. They'll remember our big family holidays -the fun, not the dishes and expenses and stress. I know, I know...duh, not much of an epiphany, right? But for me I hope it is life-changing. I hope I can let go of my ideas of perfection. I hope I can stop working so hard to contain the chaos and embrace it instead. I hope I can remember that laundry doesn't end, but childhood does. And I hope I can be a calmer, happier mom that my children will remember lovingly. After all, it's not money or paint colors or clean carpets that make a home- it's family.